


Matrices

by StarlightCaptivator



Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Ficlet Collection, Multi, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-27
Updated: 2016-09-16
Packaged: 2018-05-23 11:38:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 29
Words: 9,574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6115325
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarlightCaptivator/pseuds/StarlightCaptivator
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fic requests from memes on tumblr, now edited. Ratings, warnings and pairings are in each chapter's notes along with pairs and prompts in the chapter titles where applicable.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. TFA-Shockwave/Bumblebee- "I'm pregnant"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rating: M  
> Relationships: Shockwave/Bumblebee  
> Warnings: Mechpreg, gaslighting, dubious consent due to a lack of information  
> Continuity: TFA  
> Prompt: "I'm pregnant."

They met somewhere seedy, and Shockwave would have insisted on it even if Bumblebee hadn’t. He was too deep in cover to allow that persona be seen fraternizing with academy washouts.

When he laid optic- or optics at the moment, on the yellow minibot, it was perfectly clear by his body language that it wasn’t credits or _fraternization_ that the little Autobot wanted, so what was it?

“Hey, Lon-…er…. You came.” Bumblebee cut himself off. He had Longarm’s quickly growing status kept in mind as much as Shockwave did. Good. That meant even useless- the minibot was in his toolkit.

“What was it you needed, Bumblebee?” Longarm took the seat across from him, a little smile painting his faceplate. “This isn’t the…ah… usual… venue for pay.”  Bumblebee wouldn’t meet his eyes for a moment, but he rummaged into his subspace a moment before pulling out a beaten-up datapad. Puzzled, Longarm took the pad in hand. It lit up in his servo. It was a still of a spark image. A tiny spark could be seen on an obvious orbit to the larger one.

Confusion must have flashed on his face, because his Autobot companion spoke up.

“L-looks like you sparked me up. That’s the proof.” His voice sounded tinny, hollow and full of nervous energy. Longarm regarded him with a new optic. Even hunched over as he was - probably lack of recharge or energon or both - he could see the soft curve of black, thinner armor under which a developing protoform lay hidden by the yellow.  

“It…it’s too late to get rid of it.” The minibot mumbled, his vocalizer was nearly a squeak with his distress. “B-but it’s too much, I c-can’t… I’m too young for this!” Longarm reached out and took Bumblebee’s smaller servos in his own- an act of connection, solidarity.

“I understand.” He said, acting as if he was trying to keep his voice stable and comforting. “And I abide by your choices, Bumblebee. A chance with the guardians in the youth sector will allow for anything better than we could have given him.” He squeezed gently as Bumblebee’s lips twisted minutely into a pout before smoothing, and his helm dropped into a loose nod.

Seems like the little yellow nuisance still harbored left-over feelings. This wasn’t a romance novel though, and Longarm very-soon-to-be-Major had no need for a sparkling and it’s carrier in his cover. He had agent cadets to start grooming when he got fully into Intelligence

The fact that Bumblebee was still the lonely minibot- desperate enough to ask the friend he thought he had in Longarm for a few frags back before he was washed out- would prove useful.

“Does anyone else know about the bitlet?” His voice sustained a comforting timbre.

Bumblebee shook his head. “Only the medic I went to see. I only found out just a little while ago.” Longarm patted his servos as a plan crystallized in his processors. He needed to get the minibot as far away from Cybertron as he could as soon as possible - before the sparkling would blow up it’s carrier’s frame to the size it's  _true_ sire’s CNA would deem fit for it.

“Good, this will make the transition easier then.” Bee began to look uneasy, but when Longarm leaned closer he did too and this pleased Shockwave, because it showed how thoroughly he held the yellow minibot in his grip.

“I’ve been privy to a few upcoming job openings that will take you off planet- I’ll do my best to see to it that you and the… little one will be taken care of to emergence. No one will have to see you like this.” paired with Longarm’s sympathetic tone, his barely concealed insult struck a deep nerve in the minibot, and his uncontrolled expression showed such.

Longarm let go of Bumblebee, and pulled a couple of credit chips from his subspace. “Here; for the last courier job - and a little extra for your personal care.” When he returned to his quarters, he would make sure to allocate him properly, like he had his other assets.

Two orn later, and Bumblebee was on an old ship bound for space-bridge maintenance. A pull of the string here, a clever re-arrange there and the minibot had ‘finally’ been assigned somewhere.

Somewhere _far_ off-planet.

Somewhere doing a job that would keep him easily monitored and kept in line.

Somewhere that the other bots on the ship- another washout, a nearly defunct medic and their simpleton classmate would keep his secret too - to avoid the stigma and the stigma by association that Bumblebee could garner for creating so young.  

 _Somewhere_ far enough away that by time the first assignment was done with, a soft-sparked old medic could easily smuggle a sparkling with mixed coding and new blue optic glass to the right mechanisms.

The right mechanisms that resided in a place that would allow him to monitor the youngling’s growth and development - and make sure he didn’t make anything noticeable of himself.

By the time Longarm had made Prime, the sparkling was in his second out of four frame upgrades. He showed promise of an average sized heavy frame - likely from the mix of minibot and war build. He was quick and likely able to take a hit. Shockwave’s CNA showed truest in long, backswept sensory horns.

He would’ve made a great intelligence agent if Shockwave could allow him to make anything of himself.

It was a relaxing pet project, to spend his off-shifts editing his creation’s school scores to be perfectly average. He could let nothing that connected to him anywhere near the military sector, after all.

And his carrier - the minibot never tried to get in touch with their creation, aided by veiled suggestion from his ‘dear’ Longarm’s supposed progress reports.

The very last time he allowed himself to have a tryst with the minibot, he had given him an image still of their creation as he was before breaking it off completely. As enjoyable as it was to take the minibot for a ride, there was no room for more mistakes in the future his Lord Megatron envisioned.


	2. IDW-Elite Trine cuddles-Bonus!Mark of the broken/All is well fill.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rating: G  
> Relationships: Implied Starscream/Skywarp/Thundercracker  
> Warnings: None  
> Continuity: IDW/G1  
> Prompt: Rainy day cuddles

A steady deluge of acid rain stormed down in the city of Metroplex. The streets were mostly empty, aside from the stray unlucky mech rushing from one place to another.

Rattrap tried to get into Starscream’s quarters, but the lock denied him several times. The top datapad on his stack urgently pinged him again, and with irritation rising Rattrap hacked the door open. Darkness confronted him, and his optics switched to night vision as he made his way inside.

He left the stack of pads on a table, and forged his way to the lavishly decorated berthroom.  

He was getting all too used to the sight of the seeker - and- mesh blanket pile on the massive berth.

“Rattrap.” Starscream said from somewhere in the pile. He sounded on the edge of recharge. “G'way. We’re busy. Dip… diplo…. important slag.” A tired chortle came from one of the seekers in the pile, likely Skywarp. Thundercracker was well and truly in a deep recharge.

Rattrap almost didn’t want to disturb them. When Starscream was happy, he was distracted. Placid Starscream was a fragging  _vacation,_ that gave the maximal some extra degrees of freedom. 

But that was Starscream, millstone and pay source all in one.

 The work that needed to be seen to was unfortunately urgent though, so he dipped into his repertoire of half- truths that would rouse the erstwhile Decepticon right up. He dialed down his audials and spoke.

“But Boss- Yer crown’s gone missin’.”

“WHAT!?”


	3. TFA-Bumblebee/Waspinator- "I really wish I could hate you"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rating: T  
> Relationships: Waspinator/Bumblebee  
> Warnings: None  
> Continuity: TFA  
> Prompt: "I really wish I could hate you."

“I wish I could hate you.”  Bumblebee murmured, unable to keep his thoughts in-processor. “Then I could keep away.” He stroked Waspinator’s recharging head slowly, his servos delighted in the strange feel of techno-organic flesh. “I think that Bossbot is on to me… er… us. ” He hazarded a glance at the soiled cloth not too far away - it was one of Bulkhead’s extras, his buddy wouldn’t miss it. “He believes I’ve been actually racin’ when I come back less shiny.” Waspinator’s venting remained constant and the warmth from him fogged up Bee’s windshield further.

It’d be harder to get the traces of the bug completely off this time. He'd be paranoid for days about some nonexistent covert scan that could catch on to his late-night excursions. Fluid or particulate or worst of all - wayward coding - could give him away. The others would be beyond betrayed.

He couldn’t even bring himself to be annoyed.

“We really gotta stop.” he thought aloud, putting his face in his servo. He missed how Waspinator’s dual sets of arms tightened ever so slightly around him.


	4. TFA-Jazz/Sentinel 1- "I liked the idea of getting married."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rating: G  
> Relationships: Jazz/Sentinel  
> Warnings: Grade A Jerkwad Sentinel  
> Continuity: TFA  
> Prompt: "I liked the idea of getting married"

“I liked the idea of getting married.”

Jazz regretted his words as soon as he vocalized them.

With a gleam in his optics and the timbre of his voice set at a level of disdain usually set for the likes of Optimus Prime and his crew, Sentinel Magnus rounded on him.

“Jazz, Oh _Jazz_.” Suddenly the equal levels they stood on in the discussion - no, it was an argument - fell away as Sentinel mentally elevated himself. Jazz could almost predict what noxious mess would spill from Sentinel's vocalizer as it had for conversations before.

This time was far more personal though.

This time it was about them.

“ _Think_ Jazz.” Jazz certainly _was_ thinking, and while he kept his cool he was certainly thinking about how he’d like to wipe that smarmy smirk off Sentinel’s faceplate; about why he kept doing this to himself by staying with someone that didn’t seem to have a modicum of respect for him.

“What would it look like if _me_ , Sentinel Magnus, were to announce an engagement to well….. _you_?” Sentinel swept across the room to admire one of his choices for a shiny new helm mod in the mirror in an obvious alert that this conversation was over.

Without another word, Jazz turned on his heels and left the suite. Perhaps it was time to consider a more... _professional_ return to their relationship.


	5. TFA-Jazz/Sentinel 2-“I’m pregnant… and it’s not yours.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rating: M  
> Relationships: Past Jazz/Sentinel, Jazz/???  
> Warnings: mechpreg, creepy stalkery behaviors stemming from a bot with too much power. Sentinel continues to be an A+ jerkwad, implied danger to a gravid person  
> Continuity: TFA  
> Prompt: “I’m pregnant… and it’s not yours.”

Jazz knew there would be trouble when passed through the lobby to his apartment building and every mech around stopped to stare at him. The mech at the desk looked strained, nervous, and  _far_ too underpaid for this slag as he handed Jazz his mail. “You got a visitor, mech. I’d….. ah…. _hurry_ if I were you.”

Internally, Jazz cursed. Externally, he kept his wining smile on full. “Sure thing. Thanks for the heads up.” Master of the casual escape, Jazz swaggered his way over to the stairs and begun ascending. Once out of the view of the others, his expression fell into a grimace.

There went his good day.

It was foolish to assume that Jazz could’ve kept his private life while remaining in the guard, and even more foolish to assume that Sentinel would take the end of the less-than-professional side of relationship with any degree of seriousness… if he even acknowledged it all.

Jazz ascended the next set of stairs and he considered threatening to call the security services for Sentinel’s unlawful entry into his residence, but who would dare arrest the Magnus, coming to visit one of his top agents?

No one, is who.

Another set of stairs, and Jazz seriously considered turning back. He had places he could stay for the night. Heck, he had places with people he could stay forever if he so chose to. Inevitably though, Sentinel would find him, and he valued his job and his friends too much to go off planet to evade him.

That would cause more hardship than Jazz was willing to go through, at the moment.

He got to his floor and subspaced his mail as he considered the door to the hallway.

Clear and concise.

He had to be clear and concise if the topic came up. If Sentinel wouldn’t leave him be after what promised to be an obnoxious conversation should it happen, he would grab some extra fuel and make himself scarce for the night.

He couldn’t avoid him at work, but he’d be damned if he’d let the rest of his day off go to hell, at the very least.

Jazz set his expression into practiced, work worthy neutrality and keyed open the door to his suite.

He wasn’t surprised to see Sentinel sprawled out on his lounge in his front room, sipping some of his best oil out of one his special-occasion flutes. He was in full Magnus ensemble too, helm-mod, cape, and even the hammer was propped haphazardly against a wall.

“Jazz.” Sentinel said, sounding smug as all get out. “Took the long way home?”

“Sentinel Magnus, sir. To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?” Jazz expertly stifled a wince, as his reply came out a lot more tired sounding than he intended it to be. Even mentally forging an encounter with the infuriating mech took up precious energy that could be put to use doing literally anything else. He plodded his way over to where Sentinel had left the remaining oil and poured himself a serving in a plain glass.

Sentinel gave him some sort of look as if he was playing coy before rising to his pedes.

“Don’t you have something to tell me? Some news to share?”

Jazz pretended to think about it for a moment as a took a long draw of his fuel, internally leaving himself a memo to switch his medical provider before he answered. Nothing was sacred under Sentinel Magnus’ rule. “Nope, nothing comes to mind, _boss_.” He stressed the word ‘boss’ just very lightly, none too much to be obvious to a lead-helm like Sentinel.

Sentinel looked a little less sure of himself for a long moment, and more than a little suspicious.

He always had his tells front and center.

Good ol’ Sentinel.

His expression changed suddenly, opened up like he was some sort of sleuth-bot uncovering the big mystery. He puffed up like a cesium chicken.

“ Trying to surprise me, eh? I  always did like the way you think, Jazz.” He drew closer, and Jazz used every reserve of willpower he not to step back in turn as his personal space was invaded. Thank Primus he didn’t deign to touch him; Jazz wasn’t sure he could handle having to deal with that.

“But since my sparkling is forging away in there, we have got to start thinking of arrangements sooner, rather than later.” His tone had turned patronizing, in an obnoxious manner that indicated Sentinel was sure he knew best. “After all, the Magnus’ mate and bitlet would be safest in the citadel, don’t you think?”

Enough was enough, and the helmache that was coming on would not be abating any time soon if he didn’t stop this.

He set his glass aside and crossed his arms under his bumper, affecting the most nonchalant air he could. “The bit ain’t yours, boss.”  Sentinel’s reaction was almost comical, and Jazz could tell the exact moment he reset his audio receptors.

“ _Excuse_ me??”  Jazz kept his expression neutral at the explosion of incredulity edged with a quick growing rage that issued forth from Sentinel’s vocalizer. Jazz’s posture remained as relaxed as ever. Worse things had happened to him.

“I’m sparked up. It’s not yours.” Another set of tells caught his optic- Clenching servos, gritted dentae. He spoke up again before Sentinel could accuse him of two-timing or decide he wasn’t above throwing a punch.

“ We’ve not been ‘a thing’ for ages, Sentinel- Why the pit did'ya think I’d be receptive to you here, now?” He dimmed his visor a few shades, softened his tone.

The effect on Sentinel was nearly instantaneous as the mech deflated.

“Look, I know I’m not the _best_ partner B-but-”

“But nothing!There ain’t a single partner-like thing 'bout the way you treated me.” He took the opportunity to put some space between them. Thankfully, Sentinel didn’t pursue him. “An’ the fact that you’re even here tells me you don’t 'ave even a rusted rivet of respect for me. I told you we were **done** and I fraggin’ _meant_ it. I’m an Elite guardsmech, not y'over-glorified _fragtoy_.”

Jazz could see the gears trying to turn in Sentinel’s helm, his over-sized jaw clenched, even as the rest of his body language was best described as droopy. He had a gleam in his optic that promised that Jazz and his current flame wouldn’t get out of this unscathed.

Sentinel stalked to were the Magnus hammer sat and jerked the thing from its resting position. He stomped for the door, only stopping when the entrance slid open for him. “You’re making a mistake.” He said, tone all talk of warning and seeping with markers of Sentinel convincing himself he was already right and on the verge of doing something extremely stupid. 

“Made that mistake. Sure as pit ain’t makin’ it again.”

The door slid shut and locked with custom systems Jazz suddenly didn’t trust anymore.

Perhaps a change in scenery was what he needed after all.


	6. G1-Skyfire/Starscream- Forehead touches

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rating: G  
> Relationships: Skyfire/Starscream  
> Warnings: None  
> Continuity: G1  
> Prompt: Forehead touching

It’s increasingly difficult to get a moment alone with his beloved the closer it gets to the mission date.  

By the start of each cycle, the two of them are both thrumming with excitement and by the end, exhausted from preparations.

The most Skyfire can do is catch his relatively small lover at the end of a meeting occasionally in those serendipitous moments that their schedules sync up.

Skyfire manages a gentle caress of a wing and the most gentle press of his forehelm to Starscream’s to convey affection before the two of them are dragged apart once more.


	7. TFP-MegOP-Blanket Fort

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rating: G  
> Relationships: Megatron/Orion Pax|Optimus Prime  
> Warnings: None  
> Continuity: TFP  
> Prompt: Blanket fort

It was the most ludicrous sight, to see his brother returned poking his head up from the pile of blankets and chairs that had overtaken his meager quarters.

It would have made Megatron laugh and then check to see if he was in a recharge flux if it wasn’t for the way that Orion Pax’s optics lit up when he saw him.

“Megatronus! Ah… I mean, Lord Megatron. Would you care to join me?”  Before the war, that coy tone had meant one thing, and Megatron’s pedes moved almost on automatic towards Orion Pax and the fort, as a sharkticon's grin spread across his faceplate. 

“Why of course. I’d be delighted~”


	8. IDW-Waspinator/Sky Byte- Fake Dating

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rating: G  
> Relationships:Waspinator/Sky Byte  
> Warnings: None  
> Continuity: G1/IDW  
> Prompt: Fake Dating

It was easy to fall into the roles once they agreed upon it, and it kept less savory bots from attempting to take advantage of Waspinator’s naive nature.

A drink together after a song, sat down in a booth talking in low tones fooled most.

A chaste servo about the waist or a fin touching a leg in beast mode upon departure fooled the rest.

The most done in the public eye was a gentle, affection-filled nuzzle from Sky Byte’s beast mode under Waspinator’s mandible, and a happy buzzing sound from the other predacon in turn.

It was a grand game for the two of them, and made life in Metroplex just that much more interesting.


	9. TFA-Shockwave/Bumblebee 1- “What happened doesn’t change anything.” + “Shh, c’mere…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rating: E  
> Relationships: Shockwave/Bumblebee  
> Warnings: Noncon, dubcon, Stockholm syndrome, slavery  
> Continuity: TFA  
> Prompt: “What happened doesn’t change anything.” + “Shh, c’mere…”

It was in a moment of planned clarity that the younger bot started hissing and cursing at his master, he tried to brandish stingers that were no longer there. Shockwave vented in and then out deeply in disappointment, and he gently stroked his pet’s sensory horns and helm even as the minibot tried futilely to push away from him. His struggles to get away weakened as his newer coding made his body relax at the gesture, but he did not stop entirely.

It seemed like the little Autobot had a stronger will than he thought.

“Shhh, Bumblebee, it’s all right. Come close to me, isn’t that better?” He held him closer and firmly enough that even the most valiant of struggles wouldn’t let Bumblebee get away. He could flip those little switches in his processor if he wanted - rev his engine a little to trigger a desperate, lustful state in the minibot. That would be later though - he needed to asses his behavior while the compliance coding wasn’t fully enabled.

Keeping his prize as an interface drone forever wouldn’t do.

He wanted his personality to shine through.  He wanted Bee to think this life was his choice and so decide to stay with him on his own. To prove it could be done. 

“You were perfectly happy to be _even closer_ to me just a short while ago, sweet spark.” The timbre of Shockwave’s voice dipped into sensuality, he gently pinched down on one of Bee’s horns and was rewarded with a hard rev of his comparatively tiny engine. Seated on Shockwave’s lap as he was, he couldn’t close his legs to hide any growing arousal.  His fans clicked on against his will.

“Wh-What happened doesn’t change anything!” Good, he _did_ remember, even with the layers of coding influencing his processors. Bumblebee looked away with his faceplate aflame in a blush both furious and humiliated, but Shockwave took hold of his chin-guard to direct his faceplate back towards him, and through the neatly laid controls he made Bee direct his optics back at him.

They still had a _lot_ of work to do, before he’d be any sort of presentable to Lord Megatron.

Shockwave was nothing if not patient though. With the total defeat of the Autobots so close to the Decepticon grasp, his lord wouldn’t care to see his results for a long time coming.

The breakdown of his pet’s spirit was going right as scheduled.


	10. TFA-Shockwave/Bumblebee 2-“I’m not going to leave you alone, don’t worry.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rating: E  
> Relationships: Shockwave/Bumblebee  
> Warnings: Noncon, dubcon, Stockholm syndrome, slavery  
> Continuity: TFA  
> Prompt:“I’m not going to leave you alone, don’t worry.”

“I’m not going to leave you alone, don’t worry.”

It was a sweet little lie, of course, one meant to placate his pet for now, but as Bumblebee pushed his head into Shockwave’s far larger servo, the spymech couldn’t help but feel some fond exasperation for his pet project. He had overheard Lord Megatron’s tentative brainstorming about plans that would involve strategic movement of some troops to flush out the last of the resisting Autobots and assumed the worst.

It was a testament to Bumblebee’s work in Shockwave’s training that the yellow minibot could wait until their lord had departed to voice his concerns, as insignificant they may be. In full confidence that he need not worry about the sensitivity of plans around his minibot, Shockwave would humor him and appear to take his suggestions into consideration. Save for during interfacing, Bumblebee usually knew better than to beg for something.

And how _beautifully_ he could beg.

“Please.” Bumblebee said earnestly, static in his vocalizer. Coolant welled up in his optics. “You’d take me along, right?”

 He wouldn’t.

Bumblebee was useless as any sort of asset. It was more likely that should Shockwave be called away, He would re-activate the compliance coding to it’s fullest potential. Bumblebee would recharge and refuel on the coding’s schedule, unawares of the passage of time.

Should Shockwave deactivate in the service of his Lord, a built in kill-code would tie up that last lose end with little mess left over for the cleaning drones. His work with the Autobot would be disseminated through science and intelligence for study and application.

Bumblebee had proved himself a good little bot when he had finally broken, however, and so he was to be indulged every once in a while. “Of course I would, Bumblebee.” He dropped the timbre of his voice into soothing tones, and knew the minibot believed him as he relaxed in his grasp.

He had no one else but Shockwave, after all, and only below Megatron was Shockwave’s word law.


	11. TFA-Shockwave/Bumblebee 3-"You... lied to me."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rating: E  
> Relationships: Shockwave/Bumblebee  
> Warnings: Noncon, dubcon, Stockholm syndrome, slavery  
> Continuity: TFA  
> Prompt:"You... lied to me."

"You... lied to me."

Shockwave let out a mirthless chuckle and his great horned helm gave a tiny little tilt. “Of course I did, little one. I’m just astonished that it took you this long to figure out.”

Lubricant welled up in Bumblebee’s optics, it was just the touch to finish his overall expression of disbelief and anxious betrayal.

Shockwave had returned from a short undercover mission to find hours pet far more awake and aware than he would have liked, not to mention how upset the minibot was.

“You said you would take me with you…” The skittish little thing was a little better kept than when Shockwave usually returned, he assumed something in his coding had malfunctioned shortly after he had set Bumblebee to ‘away’ mode as it was.

“I lied.” He responded simply, closing the distance between them. He would fix the coding later and test it then. It wouldn’t do to disseminate possibly faulty codes to his peers after all. They would have far more trouble with their Autobots than he had with his.

Shockwave regarded him in a moment of silence, the fear in the relatively tiny bot’s optics as Shockwave loomed over him was some sort of nostalgic. He remembered what it was like to first receive the yellow bot, all those vorn ago. Was he equipped to, he would’ve smiled. He modulated his tone into a sensual purr. 

“Were you a good little pet while I was gone, Bumblebee?”


	12. TFA-Sentinel/Optimus- "Can we sand down all the sharp corners?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rating: G  
> Relationships: Sentinel/Optimus  
> Warnings: None  
> Continuity: TFA  
> Prompt:“Rrgh. I dunno. Could we just sand down all of the sharp corners? Would that be possible?”

“Rrgh. I dunno. Could we just sand down all of the sharp corners? Would that be possible?” Both Optimus and the little medic helping to patch up the wailing sparkling paused in their actions to stare at the supplanted Magnus with disbelief. The little medic vented out sharply as he went back to his patch job. He was silently sure that if Sentinel was still in charge Cybertron would find itself soon even _rounder_.

Optimus _Magnus_ gave his histrionic mate a long look before he realized how serious he really was.“This just happens sometimes, Sentinel. Sparklings are clumsy, Beacon is little - and so: clumsy.” Beacon’s static cries weaned down to click-y whimpers as the medic applied a mechlet grade pain blocker to the little one.

“This _is_ really common, Consort.” The medic piped up with false brightness. “Just a bruise on the protoform, a little cut on the armor that’ll heal in no time - you’ll see.” Sentinel didn’t look convinced, and Optimus knew it would be a long time before he heard the end of this. “Then we’ll sand down all the sharp corners in our suite! That’ll keep him safe!”

Optimus tried not to groan. Sentinel had been like this since Beacon had emerged - constantly afraid every small thing could hurt the tiny mech, and every hiccup was a sign of his impending deactivation.

Optimus winced at the screech that Sentinel let out when their boisterous sparkling jumped down from the mediberth with a delighted shout, hurt forgotten with the medicine and the repair patch in place.  


	13. IDW-Drift/Brainstorm-"This is going differently than I imagined.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rating: E  
> Relationships: Brainstorm/Drift  
> Warnings: Sticky, Oral sex  
> Continuity: IDW/G1  
> Prompt: "This is going differently than I imagined.”

"This is going differently than I imagined....”

Brainstorm paused in his slow stroking to glance up at Drift’s face. When his servo stopped, Drift unshuttered his optics to see what the matter was.

Brainstorm made a soft snorting sound at their shared optic contact before his languid stroking resumed, his grip applied just the slightest more pressure to the speedster’s spike. “Well, I’d have to say the same- except I never imagined this happening at all.” Drift hummed out a chuckle as he reached to pet the nearest winglet, but Brainstorm deftly avoided the touch. “Ah-ah, Drift. You know the rules.” He moved down to the floor in front of him, and Drift slid his hips forwards even as he protested.

“You know, I wanted to do this with you because I wanted to feel you too-Aah!” Deft digits made good use of sensitive hip sensors while the servo working his spike toyed with sensitive ridges.

“Is that so?” Brainstorm said, tone wry. “It seems you’re feeling me just fine.” He gently laid his upper arms on Drift’s bountiful thighs to hold him there as he clicked his face-mask free and leaned in to take him in mouth.

“That’s not what I meanngh!” He bit down on his lip plates, servos flexing and shaking in his desire to touch. Brainstorm held him in place as his hips bucked up, he kept complete control as the warrior came undone under the ministrations of his talented mouth.


	14. G1-Megatron/Optimus Prime- "Do you want me to hold your hand?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rating: G  
> Relationships: Megatron/Optimus Prime  
> Warnings: Canon typical violence  
> Continuity: G1  
> Prompt:"Do you want me to hold your hand?"

"Do you want me to hold your hand?"

Prime took the energy to online his optics at the familiar voice trying to sound snide and victorious. His HUD was too scrambled for him to know how bad off he really was, but by the increasingly cold seep of energon from his lines, Optimus could tell things were not looking good. A garbled message came in on his comms, he had the presence of mind to reply a mayday in turn.

“Yes.” He sounded more scared than he meant to, and before he knew it he was reaching up, up towards the voice of a mech he cared so deeply about even though he was so often hurt by him. Optimus watched with his vision growing ever more invaded by static, as Megatron’s expression wavered.

He almost thought he wouldn’t do it- but his mind spiked in awareness as those black fingers with a feeling he remembered _so clearly_ brushed his palm, took hold of his hand. It anchored him a little more firmly in consciousness.

“M-Megatr-”

“Silence, you fool.” His voice sounded some sort of tired, a bit of that old affection crept in to his tone as he shook his head. “You old fool.” garbled impending stasis warnings that would likely save his life flashed across his display. His hand dropped back down as _his_ warlord let go.

Megatron regarded him for a moment longer, and Optimus felt himself crack a weak smile behind his faceplate as he watched the silver mech retreat with haste in a hail of blaster fire from his approaching forces.

Same old, same old.

Maybe next time, they’d find their positions reversed.


	15. G1AU-Jazz/Prowl-"It's always nice to have a regular."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rating: M  
> Relationships: Jazz/Prowl  
> Warnings: Prostitution  
> Continuity: G1/AU  
> Prompt: "It's always nice to have a regular"

"It's always nice to have a regular"

Jazz turned his helm at at the soft statement to regard his mate for the night, the Praxian in question gazed at him with optics dim with the promise of oncoming recharge.

It was a non-sequitur, one issued forth from a powerful under-worked and under-appreciated tactical computer of one of Praxus’ finest “public service” bots. Jazz wouldn’t pretend he understood Praxus’ odd customs regarding their mecha in community service, but he'd not dare complain about it either. This was the only way Prowl agreed to see him. 

Prowl’s pre-recharge mumbles weren’t an unusual occurrence though, so Jazz smiled lazily and reached up to cup his cheek. “What d'ya mean, Prowler?”  He kept his own voice soft, not wishing to rouse his companion completely.

Prowl let out a soft ex-vent, it sounded more like a sigh than anything else. He snuggled a little closer, engine letting out a soft purr when Jazz rubbed at his waist. The despairing tone of Prowl's next utterance nearly broke his spark.

“No one else wants me more than once.”


	16. TFA-Blurr/Bumblebee 1- Fake dating

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rating: T  
> Relationships: One Sided Blurr/Bee  
> Warnings: None  
> Continuity:TFA  
> Prompt: Fake dating

With the end of the mission fast approaching, it struck Blurr that the affection he had become accustom to would soon end too. The critical intel and parcels that contained them rested heavy in his subspace at the sudden thought. Even now, as they prepared their evening meal in the cooperative apartment they shared with colonists in this undercover mission, Bumblebee had his shoulder touching Blurr’s.

They were a young neutrally-aligned couple for their mission, destined to look for work and find some before their jobs fell through and forced them back to Cybertron. It wasn’t a particularly dangerous job, and with Blurr’s skill and Bee’s charm they had kept cover admirably. Blurr had been uncomfortable with the idea at first, but being a seasoned field OP, he had done worse things for lesser missions. Bumblebee had voiced surprisingly few complaints about the circumstances, but. Blurr supposed he really had been serious about wanting that position in Autobot command.

He had expected to have to brief the younger minibot on what needed to be done to preserve their covers, but Bee had easily  fallen into the public role as lover. Outside the working part, Blurr’s day was pepper with gentle touches and quick embraces, as well as gentle helm nuzzles. In the co-op and in front of the glances of the colonists that lived there the touches evolved into chaste kisses and servos that lingered on his waist or leg.

It had only evolved into what looked like more one time, when a roommate had arrived back earlier than expected. The pair had scrambled to put away the most incriminating evidence, and quick thinking had Bee thrown over the short table and Blurr over him, close in a kiss and pressing their closed interface panels together just at the mech in question walked in. Both sides had profusely apologized, and their cover remained intact. No one would have reason to be suspicious of them after that. Blurr had embarrassingly vivid memory dumps for nights after that - all about what it would’ve been like, _felt_ like if their relationship hadn’t been a lie. Even in the short amount of time before the mech had ‘walked in’ on them, Bee had warmed up fast under his touches.

Back in the present, Blurr pinged Bumblebee over their private line to tell him that they could continue with the last phase of the plan tonight. Bee agreed with him, his face nigh unreadable.

When the time for extraction came, Blurr and Bee bid farewell to their co-op roommates and left the building with their sparse luggage. When they were well out of sight of the neighborhood, a transport came and picked them up. A grin broke out on Bumblebee’s faceplate as the door closed - he chattered for a moment about a job well done as he took the seat across from Blurr.

Blurr put on his own smile in agreement, he couldn’t help but notice the distance between them.


	17. TFA-Blurr/Bumblebee 2- Slow dancing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rating: G  
> Relationships: Blurr/Bee  
> Warnings: None  
> Continuity: TFA  
> Prompt: Slow dancing

Of course Bee had thought the date was a test or a training session, despite the clear way Blurr had presented himself. Blurr knew how the little yellow minibot operated at this point though, so it wasn’t much of a surprise when Bee answered the door to his suite in full camopaint and with those silly thrusters attached to himself. In comparison, Blurr had just given himself a once-over with a nice polish. “I’m ready to _dan_ -… Heeeyy, you look…shiny.” He beheld his superior officer for a moment, beginning to look unsure of himself. “Were…..we gonna train?” Blurr regarded him in silence for a moment, as his processor opened yet another inquiry line on how he could have fallen for this silly little mech.

“Uh…Blurr?”

His optics refocused as a plan crystallized. “Ah! Yes. Follow me.” His answer wasn’t the quickest, but it perked his companion right on up. Bee happily locked his suite and followed after behind Blurr. His driving belayed his renewed confusion though, as they remained in the residential sectors of the city instead of going towards head quarters or out to a less populace area. When the place they ended up was a large habsuite, Bumblebee finally questioned.

“We….. are trainin’ in an apartment?” He glanced around at the meager left overs of awards for time trials and racing, saved from destruction when it was found out that Blurr was still alive in his more…. modular body design. “ _Your apartment_?” Blurr made his way over to his sound system, and picked out some music to play. He would have to be clearer than the most expensive Praxian crystal with this mech.

“Correct.” He answered finally, as a tune with a gentle rhythm set a whole new ambiance to the living area.  He made his way back to Bumblebee and got right into his space. Smooth as he could ever be, he took Bee’s servos and placed them on his hips, while his own draped over the shorter bot’s shoulders. Muted recognition lit up in Bee’s eyes as Blurr had started to sway with him. He’d have to make it through this line of thought himself. The foundation was laid down solid for him, down th e song reminiscent of a similar encounter on the undercover mission they shared together.

After a few kliks he spoke. “Blurr?”

“Hmm?”

“So by _dancing_ you meant….”

“Actual dancing, yes. Originally with a different, er, venue in mind.”

Bumblebee absorbed that information for a silent moment. His voice was a lot quieter when he spoke again.

“And by a _date_ you meant…..”

“An honest-to-Primus date yes. A _date_ date.”

The way Bee’s faceplates heated up in turn was well worth the entire confusing affair.


	18. TFA-Blurr/Bumblebee 3-You’re killing me here, you know that right?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rating: G  
> Relationships: Blurr/Bee  
> Warnings: None  
> Continuity: TFA  
> Prompt: "You’re killing me here, you know that right?”

"You’re killing me here, you know that right?” 

Bumblebee looked up at him when he spoke, a couple of digits stuffed into his mouth and the other servo still covered in fluffy energon cream. He gave him a look and tried to talk around his mouthful for a moment before rolling his optics at the nonsense that was coming out. He made the obvious executive decision to get himself clean first and so quickly laved his small glossa about the sweet digits before sucking on them and pulling them free with a  pop.

"I’m doing _what_ to you?” He asked with an amused tone. Blurr just stared at him for a moment, shook his head with a soft little huff and tried to ignore the tingly new charge zipping through his system.


	19. IDW-Cyclonus-Memory Wipe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rating: G  
> Relationships:Tailgate/Cyclonus  
> Warnings: Canon typical violence, mild spoilers for mtmte 47, aaaannngst  
> Continuity: G1/IDW  
> Prompt: Things to do to a cybertronian- Memory wipe

Something was off.

He could tell something was off by the way his chronometer was so, _so_ far ahead of his make date. He perused some of the basic files for his make for a short while as his systems went through diagnostics and dared to online his optics, wondering if he’d find himself in some underground Tetrahexian hangar.

….. It didn’t _look_ like what he thought an underground Tetrahexan hangar should look like. Sensory data caught up to him, and he did his best to suppress the tremor of pain that wracked his frame. This place was darkened, but he could see his frame was in bad shape. Patches were everywhere, and if he didn’t know better, he would have thought he had been shot several times.

One of his hands was clutched tightly in a minibot’s, the little mech was coming out of recharge at his stirring. He resolved in a split-second decision to wait and see what the minibot would do- instruction, a greeting, _anything_.

He did not expect for the little mech to come at him bodily, little arms thrown about his neck.

“Cyclonus!! You’re alright!” With the minibot firmly planted now in his lap, the mech- Cyclonus, froze as this mech nuzzled against him. “I was _so scared_. Velocity said to expect lasting damage, but look at you! You’re alright!” Such a bright and adoring gaze had Cyclonus on edge, it felt like his spark was sinking into his fuel tank.

This mech obviously knew him, somehow.

“Don’t be mad, Cyclonus, but the only reason they’re letting me stay in here is because they’re listing me as your Conjunx Endura now.” The minibot said, taking hold of his shoulders. “B-but I don’t mind, especially if you don’t. It’s… ah… That’s something I’d like.”

Cyclonus clenched his jaw as he worked his memory and processor in overtime to see if he could remember this amorous little bot, but there was nothing but a log of corrupted files being purged before the point of his waking

Very quickly, minibot must have known something was wrong, it must have shown in his expression.

“…Cyclonus?” The poor thing sounded so hopeful, too. Cyclonus felt bad for the hurt he’d be causing this seemingly kind stranger.

“My sincerest apologies, but who are you?”


	20. G1/IDW-Megatron/Optimus Prime- "You look like you need me."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rating: M  
> Relationships:Megatron/Optimus Prime  
> Warnings:Heavily implied prostitution.   
> Prompt:"You look like you need me."

"You look like you need me."

Prime bit back the sarcastic quip in turn, as he was sure Megatron was still luxuriating in the surprised, deer-in-headlights look he had displayed upon coming into his suite to find him there, stretched out on his berth with his panels open.

“For a _talk_ , Megatron.” He choked out, trying to find a safe place to look. Megatron chuckled- more like snickered, really, and Optimus couldn’t hold his glossa. “You know, when you said you wished to serve among the Autobots, _this_ wasn’t exactly what I was envisioning.” Optimus let out a huffy, audible vent from his smokestacks as he made his way over to his energon dispenser in a ~~hasty retreat~~ purposeful stalk.

One had to know the game to play it, and he hoped his performance would cow Megatron to some semblance of decency. He was filling up a second cube when powerful arms slithered about his waist and clever digits caressed the open areas on his abdomen about his alt's grille.

His grip was suddenly lost at the hot press and grind of Megatron’s pelvic armor on his aft.

“Jealousy is not becoming on you, Optimus.” He had no small amount of amusement hidden in the purr of his voice. “My services for **you** are _on the house_.”


	21. IDW-Thunderclash/Rodimus- “Wait! Just… wait.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rating: M  
> Relationships: Thunderclash/Rodimus  
> Warnings: Sticky sex, P'N'P, Almost sparks, lack of knowledge  
> Continuity: IDW/G1  
> Prompt:“Wait! Just… wait.”

A peek of green light snapped Rodimus out of his reverie and nearly killed off his charge completely. He snapped his arms forwards and the chestplates above his own forcibly snapped back shut.

“WAIT! Just… wait.” Rodimus left his hands on the broad chest above, and aside from a soft grunt from the force of the shutting, and Thunderclash held perfectly still. “Don’t… er, don’t you think that’s a little too…” he floundered for a good word and failed. “Intimate?”

Thunderclash stared down incredulously at his smaller lover for a moment before markedly looking to where he had his own hardline cable plugged into Rodimus’ side and Rodimus’ in turn to his, and then further to where until just moments prior he had been slowly thrusting into his happily pliant valve.

Their eyes met again, and Thunderclash let out a long sighing vent. He was nothing if not patient, though, and so he began to withdraw. Rodimus was quick, and hooked his pedes around the backs of Thunderclash’s upper thighs. “What? What’d I say? why’re you stopping?”

Patience.

Patience was important.

“Rodimus, I didn’t mean to scare you, but this is something we need to talk about… and no, we can’t just ‘finish first’.” Rodimus’ mouth snapped shut into a pout, and Thunderclash reached between them to disengage from both valve and line. He was barely up when Rodimus spoke again.

“I’m just not ready for that kind of commitment!” This needed to stop before any hysterics could get started.

“Rodimus, what did you think I was trying to do?” Propped up just a bit, Rodimus stared at him.

“….Sparkbond with me?” by his tone it was obvious that he was trying to come off as sure when he wasn’t such at all.

Thunderclash carefully schooled his expression- it wouldn’t do to embarrass his lover beyond what he’d soon be feeling.

“Rodimus, Let’s talk about spark _merging_.”


	22. IDW-Tailgate-Slave Coding

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rating: T  
> Warnings: Slavery, angst, kinda spoilers if you've not made it to mtmte 47  
> Continuity: IDW  
> Prompt: Slave coding

The first time, the coding went dormant the second Swerve whispered how much time he had spent underground in his audial.

It came back on when Cyclonus saved his life and latched onto the warrior like a scraplet swarm before the proverbial junk pile. He had slept a long time, needing a long recovery; but as soon as he was cleared, he made a bee-line for his habsuite, his _master’s_ habsuite.

He’d do anything for Cyclonus and as he told him so, a look of grim realization dawned on the old warrior’s face.

Cyclonus sat Tailgate down that night, and told him in no uncertain terms what he expected of him. The coding told him he was so lucky, and he should be _so grateful_ that Cyclonus wanted him to live just as if he was a free bot. No orders taken unless he personally wanted to. He’d be fulfilling his duties to the fullest just by being.

Panic, grief, and disbelief ripped through Tailgate as he watched the energon seep out of Cyclonus.

He didn’t manage to take any note of who in the security team the coding had settled on as inheritor as a brilliant light burst through his body and took him into darkness. 


	23. IDW-Whirl-Fascinated

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rating: G  
> Relationships: None  
> Warnings: None  
> Continuity:IDW/G1  
> Prompt: Fascination

He remembered the first time he had ever seen clockworks - It was in an old-fashioned external chronometer, some sort of trophy piece meant for some sort of elderly fragger to attach some visible place to tell time, but Whirl couldn’t help but turn it over and over again in his servos.

Every part of it entranced him, from the pristine face to the clear carbon back that exposed all of it’s inner workings. It gave his spark a warm, full feeling to watch the repetitive movements over and over. 

The shop keep gave him odd looks for his time stood there, up until he approached the counter with it.

  
It was rich for his taste (and his air corps salary) indeed - but that didn’t matter as he just HAD to have the fascinating little trinket. He used most of his stipend for the next two whole months just to buy it, and daydreamed a lifetime of learning how the little watch worked on the way out. 


	24. G1/IDW-Megatron/Rodimus-“I know what lies beneath..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rating: T  
> Relationships: Megatron/Rodimus-kinda-not-really  
> Warnings: Brattery, Assumptions make an ass out of you and me  
> Continuity: IDW/G1  
> Prompt: “I know what lies beneath that carefully placed mask of a pleasant smile, and it’s nothing short of broken.“

That day, a Rodimus Tantrum™ was easily spotted on the horizon. He was sullen, snippy, and held those golden spoiler blades hiked up so high that even a novice in wing language and it’s subsets would know he was in a _mood_.

Unfortunately, as the one who had to sparkling-sit him this shift, it meant Megatron was in a mood too. He had already given Rodimus one verbal warning to cease his ridiculousness, that it was unbecoming to take out one’s bad mood on others. Rodimus told him that he was starting to sound like Magnus.

Megatron countered that there were far worse mecha on this vessel to sound like, and Rodimus’ entire frame drew up taught like a crossbow string. His posture and expression were reminiscent in quite a negative manner of another who- with some ridiculous inferiority complex- would push at his buttons until he snapped.

Thankfully, he needn’t resort to physical violence when Rodimus got too big for his armor.

Said speedster seemed to have thought of something new to push Megatron with, as he draped himself over the Captain’s chair, and Megatron’s lap. ” Let’s not talk about Ol’ Mags right now, I’m sure we can find some… mutually interesting things to do?“

Megatron fixed him with a bland look. "Get off.” The other mecha on the bridge pointedly ignored them.

Rodimus returned his look with a coy smile. “That’s the plan, Megsie. I’m sure I could give you a hotter ride than the walking rule book _any_ day. Plus, I promise not to recite the Autobot code in berth.”

There was the line of tolerance, and Rodimus had officially crossed it. Megatron leaned in, and Rodimus’ smile of victory was short lived as Megatron whispered in his audio receptor, voice kept low as not to draw any more attention than was being drawn- and politely ignored. “I know what lies beneath that carefully placed mask of a pleasant smile, _Hot Rod_ , and it’s nothing short of broken.“

In other circumstances, Rodimus’ shifting expression and sudden stillness would have been comical, but it was a deep barb that Megatron had struck and the sudden droop of the smaller mech’s spoiler showed how true it had struck.. "Now get off me, before I am forced to remove you myself. You have paperwork to do.”

Rodimus’.. dismount.. wasn’t exactly graceful, with what seemed like and attempt to forcibly repel himself away from Megatron’s frame, but at least he saved a touch of dignity not falling on his aft. The anger was back for a split-second, hiking his spoiler blades tightly up his back to match his thunderous expression.

Met with a dismissive glance and a curt wave, it all dissolved away again, and Rodimus stormed from the bridge.


	25. G1/IDW-Megatron/Optimus Prime- “Just this once, I want to pretend. Let me pretend I’m happy.“

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rating: T  
> Relationships: Megatron/Optimus Prime  
> Warnings: Canon Typical Violence.   
> Continuity: IDW/G1  
> Prompt:“Just this once, I want to pretend. Let me pretend I’m happy.“

Heavy Autobot ordnance had scattered his troops, thrown him bodily through the wall of a primitive shelter and into a cave system. The spindly organic weaklings that inhabited the place fled in terror at the sight of him, and for a moment he was impressed that they had initially tried to stay at all.

He was drawing himself up to his pedes when something slammed into him and knocked him for a loop a second time. He pushed back against whatever hit him, flailed his arms in an attempt to attack and halted as whatever it was- _whomever_ it was slammed him again.

“Just hold _still,_ slag you!” Megatron froze,the fog in his helm swept away as he registered that voice he had known so intimately. 

“ **PRIME**!” He snarled, lurching in his hold. He had been expecting the sound of the life ending spin up of a blaster, the dull heat that comes before a vibro-blade penetrating armor, not… a servo clapped over his mouth?

“ _QUIET_ , you old fool!” Suddenly Prime was pressed close to Megatron’s frame, closer than was comfortable… closer than he had been for millennia.

A pang Megatron would far sooner call dis-ease than longing rocketed through his spark and settled like debris in his fuel tanks as his greatest enemy pressed in _intimately_ close and retracted his battlemask. Grief and need marred his features and zipped across his tightly held field as he pressed in and tucked his helm into the crook of Megatron’s neck.

Muttered words and a hot, shaky vent across his neck cabling nearly stalled Megatron’s processor.

“Just this once, I want to pretend. _Please._ Let me pretend I’m happy.“


	26. IDW-Thunderclash, Rodimus- Accidental baby acquisition

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rating: T  
> Relationships: Rodimus/Thunderclash.....kinda  
> Warnings: None/ Thunderclash needs to be kinkshamed  
> Continuity: IDW  
> Prompt: Accidental baby acquisition for Fluff Tropes

No, no, wrong, wrong, **wrong**!!” Rodimus was across the room in astroseconds and snatched the tiny sparkling from Thunderclash’s arms to cradle her against his chestplate with practiced ease. “You’re supposed to hold a newspark like _this_. She’s too young for her systems to have calibrated for such _rough handling_. She can’t support herself yet.”

Thunderclash hid a smile as he watched Rodimus fuss over the sparkling and mumble something about ‘the greatest Autobot’ being ‘the worst babysitter’. The speedster and his apparent experience with sparklings was as much an enchanting vision in flame colors to Thunderclash as a conundrum to the others.

The mechlet had come to them under tragic circumstances and one of her carrier’s last wishes put her firmly in Rodimus’ care. It was either him or Megatron, but before anyone could think Rodimus would be shirking that duty or trying to delegate he had stepped right up and taken the newspark.

He requisitioned all he would need for her care and asked all the questions he might need to, caring for one whose frame was in part Camien.

To the surprise and lost bets of many, the sparkling flourished.

To no surprise of Thunderclash, so did his infatuation for his captain.

He moved in close and tilted Rodimus’ head up with one digit. A smooth motion had their lips touching in a short, chaste kiss, and Rodimus’ expression shifted from confused to a sort of muted blanket shock.

“How long have you had your creator protocols primed?” Thunderclash’s words were barely more than a whisper, the timbre of his voice and his powerful engine was at more of a purr than he intended. He had seen some unidentifiable variable in his captain, above his apparent expertise in childcare.

Rodimus’ eyes gaze moved away, his frame tightened up. The sparkling was held tighter “Nyon.” The implication spoke volumes.

Thunderclash did not stare, he worked to appear as if he was only mildly contemplative. It added a new, darker dimension to this mech who would be a Prime- an extra taboo on top of the fact that he had blown the torus-city to Primus. The concept of someone with the coding of a crèche-bot - partial or full- having been responsible for the deaths of so many…. Rodimus’ grip on the sparkling looked more and more like the grip of a condemned mech on a tenuous lifeline.

Thunderclash put aside his own dubious desires for the moment and put on one of his winning smiles.

“Let me help you.”


	27. IDW- Swindle/Ultra Magnus-"I can't be alone tonight."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rating: M  
> Relationships: Swindle/Ultra Magnus  
> Warnings: Heat cycles, devious Swindle-y machinations, Implied Prostitution  
> Continuity: IDW  
> Prompt: "I can't be alone tonight." for Prostitution prompts

“Please, I can’t be alone tonight.”

Swindle brightened his optics to go along with his plea at his personal law-based demon, he silently dispersed some of the artificial pheromones he kept on hand that should make him nigh irresistible to a mech in Magnus’ state.

If he could pretend to be so affected by the encroaching heat that the huge mech was already starting to broadcast that the two fell into berth together, the benefits would be threefold. Magnus was just like any other mech- he’d need to succumb eventually.

Most importantly, he’d have powerful blackmail against Ultra Magnus, that would keep him off his skid plate for the foreseeable future.

Second, fucking Magnus into stasis would allow him to store anything incriminating in his auxiliary subspaces. The impending post-frag inspection that Ultra Magnus was _supposed_  to be here for would yield nothing.

Third: Ultra Magnus was a slaggin’ hot piece of huge aft, and getting into his metaphorical pants would fuel Swindle’s fantasies for _centuries_.

The usually unwavering expression on Magnus’ face seemed to waver just so to Swindle’s gaze, and so he took his chance to sidle up to him and trace little circles into his abdominal armor with wandering digits.

“What do you say, big bot? Let me take care of you. I’ll make that nasty heat lay off before it even starts. No charge!”

He watched as Magnus seemed to survey him as if he was weighing his options. He looked vulnerable, _needy-_

“Swindle….”

Swindle was sure he had won until-

“You’re under arrest for soliciting an officer of the law. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you. I arrest you with the authority given to me as the Duly Appointed Enforcer of the Tyrest Accord….”

Swindle’s mouth dropped open in shock as Magnus slapped stasis cuffs on his wrists and begun to drag him away.

The mech was _unreal._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaand with that, I'm marking this complete! 
> 
> There will be more added on to this as I go along, but unless I find more ficlets hidden in my blog or manage to finish the request I do have before the next ice age then- that's all ~~for now~~ , folks!


	28. TFA- Bumblebee “I’m not sure who the father is.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rating: T  
> Relationships: Implied Bumblebee\Everyone  
> Warnings: Mechpreg  
> Continuity: TFA  
> Prompt: TFA Bumblebee with “I’m not sure who the father is.” for Baby Ask Meme

“You _what??”_ Ratchet whirled on him so fast that Bumblebee nearly startled back off of the slab.

He _shouldn’t_ be afraid of the old medic, he was a member of the Elite guard now, for spark’s sake!

He was a hero of Cybertron!

He had faced down The Slagmaker himself in battle and _wasn’t_ a smattering of particulate matter fused to Detroit asphalt!

The clamp-down on his plating was due to stress, that’s it.

Work and carrying related stress, is all.

It had _nothing_ to do with the fact that the medic before him, survivor of the great war and the following conflict- as well as that insane weekend in Protiex that led to Bee’s current…. predicament, _could_ be one of those possible sires- not at all.

Bumblebee put on his _best_ charming smile, exuded that reassurance…. Though it came out watery and sheepish.

“L-look, that weekend was a little…. crazy…..” aaaand _that_ was definitely a whine in his vocalizer.

_Slag._

Ratchet reared his entire upper body back, the way he liked to when he _really_ liked to lay into someone, and Bumblebee prepared himself for the verbal reaming of a lifetime.


	29. IDW- Drift/Rodimus- Affectionate Moments, Hand holding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rating: T  
> Relationships: Drift/Rodimus- Either Romantic or Platonic, take your pic.   
> Warnings: Allusions to terrible coping mechanisms  
> Continuity: IDW/G1  
> Prompt: Drift/Rodimus Hand holding

There were only a few routes to go when Rodimus got like _this_. 

The first just made things worse- a full tantrum taken out on a place important to him as well as _on_ himself. Rodimus would then fall into a heap himself, caught in a loop of memories of Nyon’s fires and the deadly depression following that would resurface with them. 

The next was just as destructive, Rodimus would nearly soak himself in engex until his brain module fried and then _provoke_. 

On the Lost Light, this was hard to accomplish, of course, and easily warned for, but _off_  the ship… 

Off the ship there were worlds filled with people both mechanical and not, and bars that were happy to serve a desperate mechanism however he wished. 

Drift had taken the task upon himself to take Rodimus in hand, so to say, lead him away from those avenues of physical, mental and spiritual destruction.

He cared for him too deeply to just stand by and watch him kill himself slowly. No matter what Rodimus thought - especially during his dark days, Drift got as much out of their relationship as Roddy did. 

Rodimus wasn’t Wing, of course, and their reliance on each other wasn’t anything in the same realm of how he had relied on Gasket and vice versa so long ago. 

That reliance given and received in turn wasn’t something to be taken for granted, and Drift thought just as such as he led Rodimus to a secluded place where they could guarantee some time in quiet. He kept close and kept him close as feasible while still able to remain arranging, occasionally he’d wiggle his fingers this way or that in a soothing word of hand. 

Before too long, he and Rodimus were settled into their nest of soft mesh blankets and pillows both hoarded and pilfered. There was little fuss in getting him down, though he gazed up at Drift as if he was a holy thing and simultaneously such a thing that would someday, inevitably, break his spark. 

Once they were both properly tucked in and pressed close from hip to helm, Drift smoothed his hands over Rodimus’ plating before taking his hand again, expressing devotion in that most reassuring glide that only chirolinguistics could bring. 

Rodimus let out a soft static sob, and drew his face down to Drift’s neck, broken firmly from his bad cycle once more


End file.
